Bloodbath... Part 2 (RP Story)

Slowing to a canter, the young man reached into his pack and withdrew a ripe, mid-sized peach. Removing the stem and slicing it in half with his knife, he leant down and fed one half to Aebrix, and took a generous bite from the other half. Feeding the other half-eaten piece of fruit to his horse, the young tailor dismounted and stared at what lay ahead, the infamous hedge maze of Britannia. Waves of emerald shrubs and hedges cascaded over the horizon, blanketing the barren forest with countless flora. Taking a labored breath, he proceeded between the two towering fir trees that marked the entrance.
Gathering a few bloodmoss and mandrake from his pack, he scattered them into the air and whispered a few words. The air around him began to shimmer and brighten, and a shower of silver sparkles bathed him in light. When the light ceased glowing, he found himself standing within the inner coils of the maze. Before him stood an extravagant mansion, however completely deserted. The windows were concealed beneath layers of dust and cobwebs, some even housing broken frames and shards of aged glass. He knew this place well; from the stories his older brother had shared with him. This was the abandoned home of Balart, the evil arch-mage. He had been an instrumental force in corrupting the peaceful lives of many Britannian peasants. After having been slain, his home was abandoned by all the servants and followers. To this day, the area is still plagued with the spirits of his servants, and demonic creatures run rampant throughout the hedges, terrorizing all who they come across.
Slowly walking towards the main entrance, the young man withdrew a torch from his pack and lit it upon one of the flaming colonnades surrounding the deserted mansion. Night was falling fast, and he knew this would make it nothing but more difficult for him to carry out what he had planned. Swatting away a low-flying bat, he stepped off of the marble walkway to the right. He had been here before, with his brothers, so the terrain was not unfamiliar to him. Following the ashen footprints burnt into the earth, the ground suddenly swallowed the young man, and he tumbled down the few hidden steps, resting against the large steel door. Grunting and picking himself up, he reached into the small crevice within the wall to his left, and turned the triangular stone clockwise. The door squealed and groaned, as the steel dragged along the stone floor and came to a rest, fully ajar. The gaping blackness within the room seemed to reduce his torch to candlelight, forcing the young man to squint as he explored the room with his eyes. Cursing the blackness, he extinguished the torch and rummaged through his satchel in the dark. Carefully pouring a few choice ingredients into an empty bottle, he swirled the contents around and emptied it into his gullet. Cringing at the horrible taste of the potion, he threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it into a thousand fragments of glass as it collided with the stone. The potions effect, however, was successful. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and a soft, white light encased him in a soothing aura.
Slowly walking to the end of the room, he located the familiar battered brazier that he remembered from his youth. Kicking it aside, he reached into the small hole where a stone paver was missing. Fumbling around in the empty space within, his fingers closed around a crude, wrought iron ring. Gently tugging on the iron hoop, nothing budged. Wrapping his fingers taut around the ring, he planted both his feet firmly alongside the hole and pulled with all his strength. There was a loud shrill, as the circlet rose out of the hole, attached to a large steel chain. As he continued to pull the chain from the ground, there was a groaning sound, as a portion of the stone wall in front of him began to crumble and move inwards. Wrapping the chain around his right bicep and giving it a final, powerful jerk, the hidden door swung open, revealing a decaying travertine staircase. Carefully examining the new surroundings, the tailor cautiously descended the steps, one hand on the rusting iron railing, and one hand tightly gripping his battle-axe. As he lowered himself further and further into the catacombs, the musty stench of dissolution rose from the depths to meet him. Wrinkling his nose at the putrid air, he forged ahead, unaware and unmindful of whatever might be waiting at the fathoms of this ancient tomb. As his potion slowly faded and lost effect, he lost his step, tripping over a large crack in the travertine stair. As his body pitched forward and reeled into the blackness, he felt himself collide against a solid granite floor. Grunting and cursing, he picked himself up from the stone walkway and stood erect, listening closely to the silence. He anxiously awaited a foreign sound to fill his ears, so that he might quickly dispose of it’s creator and alleviate his anxiety. Nothing audibly taking place, the young tailor again delved into his pack, extracting another potion and quickly quaffing it. As the light began to engulf him, he began to see that he was situated at the entryway of a long, constricted hallway. The walls of the mausoleum tapered skywards into an enormous vaulting ceiling. Two rows of ancient, rusting braziers lined the hallway, each of the braziers supported by two intertwined steel rods crafted to appear like vines. Studiously examining his surroundings, he noticed a smooth touch plate embedded into the stone wall. Squinting his eyes, he looked up into the dusty rafters, and then scanned the surrounding floor with his eyes. Scratching his beard and contemplating the actions that swam about in his mind, he sighed and raised his hand towards the sleek touch plate. As his hand neared the plate, it instantly depressed itself into the wall. Drawing his hand back, he heard a soft rumble emanating from the ground beneath him. Suddenly, the dark hall was saturated with light as the two rows of braziers lining the hallway burst into flame, the tangerine and golden colored flames blazing in the musty air. Realizing that if his presence was not known before, it was surely discerned by now. Making his way hurriedly towards the end of the hall, his ears perked at the sound of a soft click as his foot fell upon one of the stone pavers. Looking over his shoulder, he cursed and broke into a run as giant, crescent-shaped blades began plummeting down into the walkway behind him, landing with a sickening crunch as the steel blade bit into the aged stone. As he sped towards the end of the hall, a large wooden door came into his view. As he approached it, the falling blades nipped at his heels as they continued cascading down from the rafters. Letting out an ear-shattering war cry, he leaped forward from the stone walkway, shielding his head with his forearms as he crashed through the wooden entry, decimating the crumbling wood into splinters upon impact....

I especially like your descriptive passages...they are very evocative and specific. "...the tangerine and golden flames blazing..." That one surely grabbed the artist in me--that part of me that knows full well that "orange" is not tangerine...very effective, and yet uncontrived.

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